


Give and Take Ch.23

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 00:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11521104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: The way out is the way in or is the way in the way out?





	Give and Take Ch.23

                                                     “ _Try to see it my way. Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong._  
                                                      _While we see it your way, there’s a chance that we might fall apart before too long.”_  
_                                                               Lennon/McCartney_

  
        Justin edged the door closed, the drawn-out movement a desperate attempt to postpone the inevitable. But the decisive metallic click of the latch confirmed what he had refused to accept—this phase of his life was over. As the finality swept through his system, his bones liquefied from unshed tears.  
  
        Too afraid to start, too afraid he'd never stop, he took the steps two at a time. He couldn't face the steamy memories the elevator had been privy to over the years, the pervasive images and sounds that saturated every inch. The rhythmic bumping of his duffle bag on the treads echoed in the hall, a relentless counterpoint to his fleeing footsteps. Breathless, he had almost reached the first landing when, in a scene eerily reminiscent of the last time he fled the loft, he collapsed on the stairs. Wait! _What?_  
  
        Dizziness and nausea overtook him with the force of a tornado as an extraordinary epiphany blazed through his despair. Head between his knees, he massaged his neck, and it took all of his will and concentration to stand without a sickening tilt—even though the earth had just spun off its axis. Once again, his world was turned upside down courtesy of Mr. Kinney.  
  
        He leaned against the wall and pushed his palms against scrunched eyelids. As cool stone blunted heated emotion, he struggled to make some sense of what he was about to do. Why he was trying so hard to get back to him? He never though he was needy or insecure, but now he wasn't sure. Was that why he volunteered to be sacrificed at the altar of Brian Kinney when he was seventeen, why he gave his body, mind, and soul to the man? Was he that hopeless or that much in love?  
  
        Fueled by irrational resolve, he pushed away from the hard surface and retraced his steps. Once again, he was standing at the threshold of all his tomorrows. He flung the door open, oblivious to the clanging metal, and dropped his bag in the middle of the doorway. Brian would ultimately determine their fate.  
  
                            **“That’s why I’m going back, flight and flight but not singing, I am the furious bird to calm the storm.”** _©P.Nigra_  
  
        The floorboards squeaked as his sneakers propelled him on a precarious tightrope to the man standing by the window. He hesitantly reached out to touch the stone mountain but yanked his hand away. _No._ His need to feel the naked back and its ripple of muscles would have to wait. The fantasy that a loving touch was enough to exorcise the demons and make things right couldn't be indulged. If they were to have any chance at all, he had to meet this crisis head-on. The masquerade had to end, no more hiding, no more evasion. The clock was ruthlessly counting down the final minutes—they were almost out of time.

                                  
  
                 _“By looking in his eyes, will I see beyond tomorrow? By looking in his eyes, will I see beyond the sorrow that I feel?_   _©Wildhorn/Bricusse_  
                                                                                                     
                                                                                                   * * *

        Lost in memories, Brian was unaware of Justin’s presence until two hands stroked his face and padded thumbs smoothed his furrowed brow. Bewildered by the cruel mirage, he blinked. And blinked again.  
  
       “Brian...” Another caress and _a voice?_  
  
_“See me. Feel me. Touch me. Heal me.”_ _©The Who_  
       “Brian...”  
  
        It _was_ Justin, but why was he in the loft? He left. “Justin?” He gazed at the face he was certain he'd never see again and struggled to understand the vision who wasn't a vision. “What are you doing here?”  
  
_“You’re not a dream, you’re not an angel, you’re a man.”_ _©B.S.Marie_  
  
                                                                                                   * * *  
        His mouth pasty and dry, the best Justin could manage was a croaked whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn't you tell me you were getting help?” The enormity of the situation struck him like a speeding bullet, not only the magnitude of the spoken admittance, but also the cost to the man who uttered those words.  
  
       “I had to. If I could hurt you so deliberately, I’d never be able to look in the mirror again. I’d never be able to look at _you_ again. I didn’t want to be that person. I don't want to be that person, and it was only a step...” Brian swallowed, his Adam's apple moving convulsively against his neck, and cleared his throat. “It was only a step away from other things. I had to do something. I couldn’t be _him_ , not with you.”  
  
       “Oh, God, you’re not! There's no way you could ever be your father! But why didn’t you say anything before we almost made the biggest mistake of our lives?” He cringed at the desperation in his own voice. _Please have a good explanation!_                          
  
       “Because you're better off without me,” Brian said in a tone laced with fatigue, as if the weight he carried was too heavy to bear.  
  
        He opened his mouth to protest the self-disdain but was stopped by a gentle hand on his mouth. “Hear me out, okay? I don’t know how long this courage shit is going to last. Look, I know I don’t suck professionally. It’s only personally. In more ways than one. Fuck! This is hard!”  
  
       “Welcome to my world. It’s never easy to admit things you don’t want to admit. Trust me, I know.” He grabbed his shoulders. “Remember? _I get you._ I know you better than you know yourself. That's one of the reasons we fight.”  
  
       “Really? I thought it was because I’m a supercilious, controlling, un _-_ ridiculously romantic ass.”  
  
       “That, too,” he agreed without smiling. “Or do we fight because you, _we_ are living a sham of a life?” After a dramatic pause, he added, “And because the outcome, the truth scares the living shit out of you?”  
  
                                                                                                   * * *  
        Brian stared and a shiver raced down his spine. He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that Justin had snatched the golden ring and filed it in his mental scrapbook of ‘Things I know About Brian That No One Else Does.’  
  
        He pulled away and spread his arms wide as the blue eyes drilled into his soul. “Okay, go for it! Let’s do this before I turn chicken shit.”  
  
        This was the ‘talk,’ the let-it-all-hang-out, bare-your-soul conversation that had loomed like an ominous thundercloud for years, the one he fought to avoid—until now. He was about to dance with the devil. And he prayed he knew the steps.  
  
_“Where would you rather be? Anywhere but here._  
                                                     _When will the time be right? Anytime but now.”_   _©Peart/Lee/Lifeson_  
  
                                                                                                   * * *  
         
        His lips in a pencil-thin line, Justin planted himself in front of Brian and folded his arms. If this was going to be the end, they might as well go out in a blaze of glory instead of a smoldering pile of ash. “Here’s the deal. This is it! There are no more do-overs! We both screwed up. You were wrong. I was wrong. Lots of times. I hurt you and you hurt me. Lots of times. It doesn’t matter who was the biggest fuck up because right now, we both are. You want to know something? Since the bashing—”  
  
        Brian's hand shot out in warning, but he didn’t need the caution. The inner torment was evident by the clenched jaw muscles and tense posture. The sight broke his heart. Any other time, he gladly would have acquiesced to the unspoken demand, but now? He had no choice. They had to get everything out in the open.  
  
                                                                                                   * * *  
        Why the fuck did he think he could do this? What fucking good would it do to talk about that night, to feel that pain? The last thing he wanted to relive was his nightmare, the one that visited him most nights, some days, and occasionally popped in like an old friend when things were too peaceful. He wanted to run but hands darted out, holding him firm.  
  
       “Brian, stop! Don’t close up because I mentioned it. We have to get through this.”  
  
       “Fuck! It’s too...I don’t....” His body went rigid as unbidden images of a bloodied Justin on cold concrete flashed through his mind. He couldn't comprehend or accept the idea of Justin and death in the same sentence. Not now. Not ever.

                                          _“On the edge of sleep, pressed down by the darkness, my angels and my demons at war.  
                                                Which one will lose depends on what I choose.”_    _©Peart,Lee,Lifeson_  
  
                                                                                                   * * *  
        Justin paled at the naked pain. Maybe Brian was the one who had suffered the most on that awful night. “You have to let it go. How many times, how many ways can I convince you it wasn't your fault?”  
  
        He ignored the wet sting in his eyes. _No, not now!_ “I know you hurt. I know you feel responsible. That’s why you took me in after it happened. I was gutted when you told me but now I understand. What _you_ don't understand is that you saved me, physically and emotionally. You know how I know?” He bit his lip and hoped he could break down the layers of guilty scar tissue.  
  
       “You sacrificed yourself. You let go of your past and your fear. For me! Despite your low opinion of yourself, you’re a good man, Brian Kinney. But no matter how much you want and need to do it, you can't make my hurt go away. Only I can do that, just like only you can get rid of your pain.”  
  
        A small grin escaped. “I said before that your problem is that you always have to be in control. That night you weren't and it freaked you out. In this one instance, you have my permission to be totally selfish and think only of you. You have to forgive yourself!” He took a shaky breath. “If anything, _I’m_ to blame.”  
  
        He shrugged at the look of disbelief. “Forget it. Let me finish what I was going to say.”  
  
        Satisfied Brian wasn’t going to reach for the nearest bottle of Beam, stash of pills, or bolt for a medicinal fuck, he relaxed his grip.  
  
       “Since it happened, every now and then, I think about dying.” He peeked from the corner of his eye. “I don’t mean a morbid fascination with it, just that I cheated death. For whatever reason, I didn’t die, and I sometimes wonder if I’ll be revisited sooner rather than later.”  
  
       “Justin! What the fuck? Are you fucking insane?”  
  
        He winced as the booming voice sounded its alarm. When Brian shifted foot-to-foot and avoided eye contact, he had an uneasy feeling it might have been a mistake to bring up the subject. He was familiar with that behavior from his stay in the hospital. An uncertain discomfort washed over people when they met someone who they perceived to be ‘out there.’ He rushed to diffuse a potential disaster. They had more important issues to hammer out. Brian’s opinion of his mental faculties would have to wait for another time, if there was another time. “Calm down! Please! Are you listening?”  
  
       “Yes, okay? I’m fucking listening!”  
  
       “Good!” His leisurely stroll around the loft evolved into a full-fledged pace. “I don’t know if this is going to make any sense, but here goes. I lost a huge chunk of my life because of Chris Hobbs, an important piece of the Justin Taylor Puzzle.” He paused, needing to collect his thoughts. How could he explain?  
  
       “See, I always thought I had the luxury of an unlimited future to figure things out, to understand _me_ , to get to know myself. And that takes time. But I don’t know how much, and since I also don’t know how much time I have left... I guess no one does actually.” He mentally shook his head to stay on track.  He couldn't afford to ramble. This wasn’t the time or the place to explore the Eternal Sunshine of Justin Taylor’s Mind.  
  
        He whirled around. “The thing is, I’ve received this wonderful gift. Time. And I don’t want to waste it. I want to take advantage of it. Life is too fucking short for us to get bogged down in shit. You know the phrase, Carpe diem? Well, that’s us. _Now_ is all we have! The past is past and we don’t have a fuck what the future is going to be. So now that fate or destiny, or whatever the fuck you want to call it has given us another chance to make it work, can you please tell me why we’re so hell bent on throwing it all away?”  
                                                               
                                                                                                * * *  
       “We’re not,” Brian said without conviction. Justin’s train of thought was moving too fast for him. He was still trying to process that he came back.  
  
       “Oh, yes we are! Every time you pretend, either to yourself or anyone else, that we’re nothing more than fuck buddies with something extra thrown in, and every time I go along with it, saying nothing to contradict you, that’s exactly what we’re doing! Why won’t you admit the truth?”  
  
        The impassioned speech lifted the gray veil of confusion. Its honesty vacuumed up the muddled cobwebs and left behind the black and white crispness of uncluttered clarity. He shot him a sad but cynical glance. “Truth can be bullshit, too. It depends on how a person sees it.”  
  
       “That’s exactly what I want! I don’t want a ‘one plus one equals two’ version. I want...I need your version, your interpretation of it. So I’ll ask you again. Why won’t you admit the truth?”  
  
        Justin might as well have asked him to speak Swahili. He struggled to say words as unfamiliar as a foreign language, phrases that couldn’t roll off his tongue easily, if at all. He didn’t have any practice.  
  
        With a sudden interest in his highly polished wood floor, he exhaled a loud whoosh of air. “Maybe because it’s like you said?” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Because I’m scared to death?”  
  
        There! He said the unimaginable and the earth hadn’t gobbled him up! Something about saying the words out loud made him acknowledge the truth. He snickered. Only a hundred more hurdles to jump through in the obstacle course of his life.  
  
                                                                                                * * *  
        A puzzled frown creased Justin's forehead. He must have misunderstood. He could have sworn Brian said he was scared. Finally. At last. It's what he wanted, right? But—Brian didn’t do scared. And even if he did, he didn’t. It was such a bizarre notion. And a promising one. With any luck maybe the admission was the first baby step toward a future together.  
  
**“People who are right for each other argue and fight just like anyone else. The big difference is that they won’t let it break them. Because even if a relationship is right, it’s never easy.”** **Dr.W. Alpert**

 

**CONTINUED HERE:** <http://archiveofourown.org/works/11700402>


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